


Shake and Serve in a Standard Cocktail Glass

by somanyopentabs



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, M/M, problematic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyopentabs/pseuds/somanyopentabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony and Bruce get drunk and have an inadvisable yet sexy encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake and Serve in a Standard Cocktail Glass

It starts simple enough. Tony’s about to have a drink, and because Bruce is sharing lab space with him, and because Tony can be a good host when he wants to be, he asks Bruce to join him.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” comes the response, and Tony scowls when Bruce doesn’t even look up from their current project.

Well, that simply won’t do. Tony is not about to leave well enough alone; Bruce should know that by now. “Why not?”

“Oh,” Bruce answers, and finally looks up at him. “I don’t—I don’t really drink, is all.”

“You’re not a mean drunk, are you?” Tony asks. He doesn’t really think Bruce has it in him to be a mean _anything_ , but he wants to get Bruce talking so that he can shoot down his reluctance and convince him. Tony doesn’t actually _like_ to drink alone.

Bruce looks thoughtful, deliberating on an answer. “I’m not sure that I’m any kind of drunk.”

“Fair enough. Have one drink with me, then. One drink won’t get you drunk.”

Four drinks later—or is it five? Tony wasn’t keeping track—they’re both sitting down slumped together on the lab floor, leaning up against each other, foreheads brushing.

Tony’s not really all that drunk. He’s just buzzed, really. In fact, he feels really good, and Bruce’s warm breath on his ear feels good, too. Bruce is talking in a low voice about gamma radiation, and it sounds accurate, so Tony thinks it’s a good guess that Bruce isn’t entirely smashed either.

Ha. Bruce. _Smashed._

Tony starts giggling, and he can’t seem to stop himself, and okay, maybe he is a little drunk.

“What’s so funny?” Bruce asks, and he might be slurring a little, but he sounds good, and kind—god, his voice always sounds _kind_ , and warm, and Tony could wrap himself up in that voice if Bruce would let him.

Okay, Tony really has to focus and stop thinking in intangibles. And he has to stop laughing like an idiot.

“You,” Tony says finally, and it feels like it’s been ages since Bruce asked his question. “You’re funny.”

“Oh.” Bruce scrunches up his face like he can’t decide whether to be offended by that or not. Of course, he decides on ‘not’, because Bruce is so rarely offended by anything Tony says. Tony thinks that maybe he’s not trying hard enough.

“Bruce,” Tony says, gripping onto that last train of thought like a string in a labyrinth. “You never get mad at me.”

“I can’t get mad at anyone,” Bruce reminds him patiently. He’s staring at his empty glass in his hand, like he can’t quite remember why it isn’t full anymore.

“Yeah, but I don’t annoy you,” Tony points out. He’d like to think he’d be a lot more eloquent in his argument if he were completely sober, but there’s no use in thinking that way now. He’s having this conversation now, and his sober self can decide whether or not it was a good idea in the morning. “Either that, or you’re really good at hiding it.”

“You don’t annoy me. I like you.” 

Okay, so maybe Tony isn’t the only one who’s lost the ability for nuance and subtlety. Oh, well.

“Ha. I like you too, short stack.”

Now Bruce just looks confused. “I think we’re roughly the same height.”

“Hush, shorty. Embrace your nickname.” Tony thinks about what Bruce has said. They probably are about the same height, but Tony tends to stand up straighter, and Bruce has his way of blending into the background and generally being unnoticeable.

“The last time I had a nickname I was in high school,” Bruce mumbles.

“Yeah? What was it?”

“Freak.” Bruce says the word so dispassionately that it takes a few moments to register with Tony.

“That’s not nice,” Tony says, a bit stupidly. “I’ve been called worse, of course. But I’m not as nice as you.”

Bruce shakes his head. At which part, Tony isn’t quite sure.

“I could choose a different nickname for you,” Tony muses. “If you don’t like shorty.”

“’S’okay.” 

Somehow their faces have wound up very close to one another again. Tony’s lips are brushing Bruce’s cheek, and he can feel the beginnings of stubble there.  


“Good,” Tony decides, not backing off, and just letting his lips move against Bruce’s face. Bruce doesn’t seem to mind, and almost seems to lean into the touch. “It suits you. Not ‘cause you’re all that short. I mean, you kinda are. But you’re cute.”

“You say that to everyone,” Bruce says, not reacting in any noticeable way.

“No, I don’t,” Tony protests.

“Yes, you do. You told Thor you liked his muscles yesterday. You flirt with Steve all the time. And you’re always commenting on Clint’s ass.”

“Would you rather I commented on your ass?” Tony says it as a joke, and then almost hopes that Bruce will magically say yes, because Bruce has a nice ass too. Even beneath those hideous pants Bruce wears, Tony can tell. It’s very nice. Very round. Tony kind of wants to squeeze it. 

“You haven’t before. I just assumed I didn’t make the cut.” There’s something odd in Bruce’s tone now. Something that can’t entirely be explained away by the alcohol.

“You _do_ want me to,” Tony figures out suddenly. As far as epiphanies go, it’s taken him an embarrassingly long time to reach this one, but hey, no big deal, he can still roll with this.

Bruce doesn’t say anything to that, but Tony can sense him holding his breath.

“You only had to say so, short stuff,” Tony murmurs, letting his lips trail over Bruce’s skin until they reach his slightly pouting lips.

Bruce startles momentarily, and then kisses him messily, and they both taste like alcohol, but it’s still good, still more than enough to get Tony hard within minutes, because Tony Stark definitely does not suffer from whiskey dick. In his fumbling, he manages to pull Bruce on top of him so he can grab handfuls of his tight, round ass and squeeze, causing Bruce to moan and grind against him. Bruce is rock hard too, rubbing up against him.

The kissing is good, really good. Better than Tony had imagined, and let's face it, he's imagined kissing everyone on the team. Bruce’s lips are soft, and his mouth is warm and wet, and that only serves to get Tony thinking about those lips wrapped around his dick. He starts thinking about how he can get his cock sucked, because yeah, Bruce has a pretty mouth, and hair long enough to pull, and a tongue that keeps caressing his own like a goddamn tease.

Tony reaches down and unbuckles his belt, and then starts on Bruce’s, who pulls off him for a moment to stare blearily at him. Tony hopes, almost desperately, that Bruce isn’t having second thoughts.

“I haven’t—“ Bruce starts, and stops. Tony waits as patiently as he can before Bruce continues, “I haven’t been with a lot of men.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” Tony says, hoping he’s being reassuring instead of condescending. “You’re doing just fine.”

He reaches out and pulls Bruce in by his wrists so that Bruce is on top of him again, straddling him. Tony bucks up momentarily, creating some nice friction between them and making Bruce gasp.

“You’ve got a sweet little mouth,” Tony comments before leaning up to bite gently at Bruce lower lip. “Tell you what—we’ll go as slow as you want. You just tell me what you like.”

Bruce shifts on top of him, his skin feeling hot to the touch as Tony releases his wrists and lets his hands travel back to cup that cute little ass.

“Okay,” Bruce says, softly, and it’s the most precious damn thing. Tony had forgotten how much fun inexperience could be.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done before,” Tony suggests, because honestly, he likes talking about sex almost as much as he likes having it. Almost.

“Oh. Um. I mean, I’ve had sex with men. Er—a man. It was a while ago.”

“C’mon, kitten. Details, baby. You like sucking? Fucking? I’ll bet he appreciated your ass,” Tony punctuated that statement with a light slap to the ass in question. “He ever get his tongue down there, lick you out real good? Or maybe he just fingered you until you came.”

“Blowjobs,” Bruce says, bluntly, and then flushes deeply. “Or, what I mean is, we did that a lot.”

Tony smirks. “Nice, babe. We’ll start there.” Tony pinches Bruce playfully on the rear before pulling one of his signature moves and reversing their positions, tackling Bruce to the floor.

“Oh,” Bruce says, wondrously, as Tony makes short work of Bruce’s belt and zipper and gets his cock out. “ _Oh._ ”

Tony strokes him, up and down quickly, before leaning in and taking him into his mouth. The noises Bruce is already making are fucking spectacular, all short little gasps and near-squeaky moans, like he hasn’t been a recipient of this sort of attention in a while and his inhibitions are already shot to hell.

Tony takes Bruce deep, sucks as hard as he can, just to hear those gorgeous little sounds. It’s making his own dick even harder, the feel of Bruce in his mouth and the noises he’s making. He sounds like a fucking porno—like an actual good porno, maybe semi-amateur, where the actors are enjoying themselves and half-doing it for the fun of it. When Tony glances up, still working Bruce’s dick inside his mouth, he realizes that Bruce looks like a wet dream—hazy and sweating, mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut, his hands at his sides, grasping futilely at the floor for something to hold onto. Tony lets Bruce’s cock slide out of his mouth for a moment so he can reach for Bruce’s hands. He places them where he wants them—one on his shoulder, one in his hair—and then goes back down, hollowing his cheeks and giving Bruce all he’s got.

Bruce moans, his fingers twitching so politely in Tony’s hair, and when Tony looks up again, Bruce is biting his lip. Tony’s hands go to Bruce’s thighs, which are trembling, and nearly pulls Bruce into his mouth with the grip he has on them.

“ _Tony_ ,” Bruce whines, and Tony can feel him fighting the urge to buck up into Tony’s mouth. If they do this again, Tony will let him know that it’s okay, Tony likes having his mouth fucked.

“I’m going to—I’m going to come, oh, _Tony_.” Bruce’s voice is broken, and sounds as desperate as Tony feels. Tony steps up his game, lets his tongue swirl around the head of Bruce’s dick _just so_ , and then Bruce is coming, and Tony is swallowing down every last drop, warm and hot against his tongue.  
Bruce looks dazed for a moment before shaking himself out of it and assessing the situation. He leans up on his elbows, and then Tony surges forward, capturing Bruce’s abused-looking lips in a rough kiss. When Tony finally moves back, Bruce’s lips are so wet, so slick that it’s almost obscene. Bruce’s dark eyes are looking at him clearly now, and Tony thinks he can see desire resurfacing there, because then Bruce rolls them over again and makes his way down between Tony’s legs, until his mouth is hovering just above Tony’s hard-on.

“I've thought about doing this, you know,” Bruce says, licking his lips before pressing his lips against the fabric of Tony’s dress slacks to tease him with his sweet mouth, warm breath seeping through and feeling fucking amazing.

Bruce takes his time uncovering Tony’s erection, and Tony just lets him, doesn’t rush, just waits to see what Bruce will do. When Bruce has Tony’s prick in hand, he laps his tongue teasingly against the slit, and then lets his tongue trail over the head, flickering softly at the sensitive skin. It feels like too much and not enough, and Tony wants more but he doesn’t want to stop Bruce from doing what he’s doing, so Tony brings a hand up to his mouth and bites at a knuckle, willing himself to stay still and let Bruce play.

Then Bruce is kissing wetly up the shaft, open-mouthed and perfect, and Tony almost wants to beg him to suck him, but it’s been a long time since anyone really took the time to explore, to play around with him instead of rushing through things, so he lets it go, lets himself sink into the feeling of having his stuff caressed and kissed like that.

Bruce does, eventually, take him into his mouth. He doesn’t go as deep as Tony does, but he sucks with intent and gets a firm hand around the rest of Tony’s shaft, jerking him off while he blows him.

Tony takes his hand away from his mouth and buries both hands in Bruce’s hair, careful not to push, but tugging lightly at Bruce’s curls. He doesn’t tug nearly hard enough to hurt, and Bruce doesn’t seem to mind. It’s too tempting not to play with Bruce’s hair, at any rate. It’s all soft, thick curls that Tony could really get a good grip on, and maybe he’ll ask Bruce later, after, if he would mind a little rough treatment, because damn, it was all Tony could do not to pull, _hard_.  
“That’s it, baby,” Tony says as Bruce gets into a rhythm that’s practically perfect. He can feel his orgasm building. Bruce looks like a mousy little angel there between his thighs, taking his cock like a star and moaning like Tony’s cock is the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. That in itself was enough to get Tony close; it was always nice when a partner _enjoyed_ sucking his cock.

“God, Bruce. I’m close. I’m really fucking close. Can’t even tell you how much I wanna come all over your face. Will you let me do that, baby? Let me come all over you?”

Bruce pulls off, but continues jerking Tony with his hand, keeping his face close. “Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s—will you open your mouth for me, babe?”

Bruce blinks at him once or twice, but then does as requested, and it’s then that Tony comes, streaking white over Bruce’s lips, mouth, cheeks, eyelashes. Bruce looks like a hot mess, like the hottest thing Tony has ever seen. And then he licks come off his lips and blushes bright red.

Tony can’t help it; he laughs. Slowly he gets to his feet and gives Bruce a hand up. Bruce, to his credit, doesn’t look shocked anymore. He just looks curious, licking experimentally at the corner of his mouth, as if he’s trying to clean himself with his tongue.

Tony grins, zipping up and clapping a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “You wanna go get cleaned up? Not that I don’t like looking at you like this. You look hot with my come all over you.”

“Thanks,” Bruce says, and it’s the same way he said ‘thanks’ the first time he met him, like he doesn’t really mean it.

Tony watches Bruce shuffle off without another word, wondering if he should go after him. But Bruce probably just wants to get cleaned up, and likely sobered up. Tony is feeling a lot less drunk, and really relaxed. He gets distracted before too long, thinking up new schematics for his suit.

**Author's Note:**

> Written way before I saw the Avengers. Consider this an 'alternative' characterization, I suppose.


End file.
